


It's How You Use It

by badwolfbadwolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom!Stiles, Butt Plugs, Condoms, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Enemas, Explicit Consent, Facials, First Time, Humiliation, M/M, Oral Sex, Realistic, Rimming, Size Kink, Top!Derek, Training, Virginity, bigdick!Derek, safe sex, virgin!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 20:28:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1482826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfbadwolf/pseuds/badwolfbadwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a virgin and Derek has a big dick.  Derek trains him to take it.</p><p>  <i>Stiles hadn’t really realized it until they were mashed up against his door, his thighs splayed, Derek’s hips fitted to him.  And then he turned slightly and <i>ohmygod</i>, there was Derek’s dick.  Just sitting right there, in his pants, pressed against Stiles.  Derek Hale had a dick.  Derek Hale had a fucking big dick.  Like anaconda proportions.  Suddenly Stiles was pulling away, nervous excitement twining with fear and plummeting straight down into his stomach as Derek mouthed at his neck.</i></p><p>  <i>“I’m a virgin,” Stiles blurted out, and his voice did an embarrassing little crack on the end like he was tripping through puberty and falling face first on the other side.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my lovely beta and friend [thatworldinverted](http://thatworldinverted.tumblr.com).

Stiles hadn’t really realized it until they were mashed up against his door, his thighs splayed, Derek’s hips fitted to him.  And then he turned slightly and _ohmygod_ , there was Derek’s dick.  Just sitting right there, in his pants, pressed against Stiles.  Derek Hale had a dick.  Derek Hale had a fucking big dick.  Like anaconda proportions.  Suddenly Stiles was pulling away, nervous excitement twining with fear and plummeting straight down into his stomach as Derek mouthed at his neck.

“I’m a virgin,” Stiles blurted out, and his voice did an embarrassing little crack on the end like he was tripping through puberty and falling face first on the other side.

The words made Derek pause from his awesome manhandling, warm hands tensing on Stiles’ shirtsleeves.  And shit, Stiles had ruined it all before they had even gotten started.  He could star in his own movie about dying a virgin at the age of eighty-seven.  On his tombstone it would read ‘Here Lies Stiles.  He Almost Got It On With Derek Fucking Hale’s Big Dick.’  Greenberg would put a big sign on his back that read: ‘Kick Me, I’m a Virgin.’  And people would.

Stiles died a little on the inside, wanting to shove his foot in his mouth for the millionth time that year.  And then something strange happened.  Something very strange and ridiculous and magical.  Derek growled.  And sunk down to his knees.

“Has anyone touched your cock before, Stiles?” he asked into the seam at the crotch of Stiles’ jeans.  “Besides your own greedy little hands?”

Groaning, Stiles scrunched his eyes closed and whacked his head back on his hard wooden door.  He flushed with embarrassment and pain, cursing his too pale skin for being so damn sensitive and showing his every little tell as the redness creeped over his moles and up along his hairline.

“I—” Stiles began before losing the ability to speak as Derek bent forward and breathed in deeply.  He was scenting him, _ohgod_ , the fucking werewolf was scenting him.  Stiles was wet as a girl, and he might not die a virgin but his first non-solo sexual experience would be coming in his pants while Derek Fucking Hale just sniffed at his crotch.  Stiles covered his eyes in mortification, gradually becoming aware that Derek had stopped moving.  He peeked through his fingers to see the wolf looking up at him, and shit, if that wasn’t a sight to see.  

Derek looked stupidly handsome as usual, but the sloping angle of his neck, the dense, dark stubble, the thickness of his eyelashes as they flicked up and down heavily…  Stiles closed his fingers together quickly, unable to look anymore or else risk creaming his pants right that second.

“Look, I— It’s not like I haven’t had any offers,” Stiles said for some reason, the lie sounding ridiculous to his ears.

“Is that so?” Derek murmured as he popped open Stiles’ button and began to ease down the zipper.  Stiles banged his head on the door again repeatedly, hoping to knock some sense into his scrambled eggs brain.

“Can we just forget I said anything?”

Derek smirked, looking like an asshole in his leather jacket and his softly spiked hair.  “No.”  And there, now he sounded like one, too.  And nope, Stiles was definitely not turned on by that.  Not even a little.  Not even when Derek tugged Stiles’ pants downward with a growl and _fuck_ , that air was cold.

“Tell me about all of this dick you’ve turned down.”

Stiles flushed further, and he was sure he must be resembling a fricking tomato by that point.  He was just sort of standing there, dick out of his pants, Derek on his knees in front of him, and boy his teeth were looking sharp.  He wasn’t going to get near his junk with _those_ , was he?  But even as he considered it, Derek moved closer, humming against him, flicking his tongue out.  

And there.  Someone had touched Stiles’ dick.  He wasn’t a virgin anymore.  He vaguely wanted to punch the air with sheer happiness because if anyone ever asked he could say, _yes, Derek Hale’s tongue licked my dick.  Thank you for your interest._

Eventually Stiles realized that Derek had pulled back and was looking at him with a cocked eyebrow.  Oh, he was waiting for an answer.  What was it he had asked?  Oh, right.  Dick.

“I was…” Stiles began, trailing off to examine his dirty fingernails as they traced patterns along the wood grain of his bedroom door.  “... _kindofwaitingforsomeonespecial_.”  He mumbled the words in a big rush and rolled his eyes to the ceiling, feeling his chest constrict in a kind of terrible way.  Because why the fuck was he saying that, and also what the fuck could Derek possibly say to that?

“Am I special, Stiles?” Derek deadpanned, and Stiles felt his stomach curl up because what? and also Derek had a hand on his dick now.

“Are you…  Jesus, Derek,” Stiles spluttered, partly due to embarrassment at the question and partly due to the way Derek now literally had Stiles’ balls in his hand and could either squeeze them off his body or work him over ‘til he popped like a cork.  Which, really.  That wasn’t that far away.

“Well?” Derek asked, his left hand giving a tug that made Stiles yelp.  He felt his back sliding all over the door, his skin growing sweaty as his body heated up underneath his shirt due to Derek’s words.  And eyes and stubble and hands and his perfect everything just Jesus fuck.

“I.  I don’t.”  Stiles screwed up his face and squeezed his eyes closed tightly as Derek stroked him with slow pulls.  He knew if he looked down and saw Derek’s face so close to his skin, saw those impossibly beautiful eyes staring at him, saw the flex of his forearm as he jerked Stiles off, that he would be coming all over those stupid cheekbones in a heartbeat.

“I think that’s a yes or no question.”  And dammit, Derek was trying to kill him with the way he opened his mouth and just rested it right there on Stiles’ dick, like he was a fucking dog with a bone or something.  Derek wiggled his tongue and slid upward, his spit making a wet trail that cooled immediately and made Stiles’ skin turn to goosebumps.  Derek’s mouth closed over the tip, his tongue at the slit and poking inward slightly, and Stiles just about lost it.  But then Derek wrapped his left hand on the base and squeezed gently with his right, and _that_ was when Stiles actually did lose it.

He came with an embarrassing gurgle, the head of his cock just barely between Derek’s lips and making a big ol’ messy spatter all over the scruffy chin.  Stiles banged his head backwards again and rasped out a few deep breaths, the entirety of his insides funneling rapidly and trying to squeeze out of his cock as each shudder wrung him out until he was dry and heaving.  He sucked in air noisily, only able to remain upright because of Derek’s hands on his hips and forehead against his belly.

When Derek pulled away his lips were shiny, swollen, gorgeous, and his tongue darted out with a pink point to lick at the sloppy drips of come.  And ugh, if that wasn’t the hottest thing Stiles had ever seen, and yeah, he’d seen a lot of filthy dirty porn.

Derek released him and Stiles immediately fidgeted, tugging on the hem of his shirt and feeling supremely embarrassed that he had just come all over Derek Hale’s beautiful face after being touched for under a minute.  But, on the plus side, not a virgin!  He had done the sex.   _Sex!_  Stiles found himself grinning stupidly, a big stretch from ear to ear before a giggle bubbled up and ended in a graceless hiccup.  Which promptly turned into a startled yip as Derek stood to his full height and leaned in close to cage him in between his hands, pressing him back into the door.

And yep, there was Derek’s dick again.  Stiles hadn’t forgotten, nope, not for a second.

“So…” Stiles said, aiming for casual.  “Butt sex?”  Derek had the audacity to laugh into Stiles’ neck, making Stiles frown and push ineffectively against Derek’s bulk.  “You don’t have to laugh at me,” he sulked, reaching down to scramble for his pants and attempting to yank them back up.  It was a bit difficult with Derek against him so tightly and pinning him backwards so he eventually gave up and let his head fall back with an exaggerated sigh.

“I want to.  God, do I want to,” Derek said, his voice taking on a deep timbre that Stiles had never heard before.  “But not yet.”

“Why?” Stiles whined, immediately regretting the sound as soon as it hit his ears.  His skin was still buzzing but he thought he could probably get it up in a few minutes.  He let his hands settle on Derek’s shoulders, digging into the buttery soft leather and trying to get the feel of the massive muscles beneath.

“You need to work up to it.  You can’t take it yet.”

The words made Stiles twitch, his cock struggling to fill though he was running on empty.

“Well happy birthday to me,” Stiles chirped with a cheeky smirk.

“No, seriously.  It’s big.”

“Again, I don’t see the problem here.”

And there was the look on Derek’s face that Stiles was used to seeing.  Exasperation possibly mixed with the desire to slap Stiles upside the head.  Stiles had grown to love it.

Derek crowded even closer, suddenly all that Stiles could see.  He was huge and dark, leather and warm breath and hooded eyes.  “I need to train you first.  To take my cock.”

And no, that was the moment that Stiles died, melting into a big puddle.  He swallowed, his throat getting stuck mid-way.  “Okay,” he croaked.  He thrust his hips forward slightly, rubbing his spent cock against Derek’s pants.  “Can I at least… to you?”

Stiles felt Derek shake his head against him, tipping sideways to mouth at Stiles’ ear and gather the shell between his teeth.  “If we’re going to do this, really do this, I’m going to take it so slow that by the time I get my dick in you, you’ll be coming on the first hard thrust.”  He sucked on the lobe, tasting Stiles’ shudders before biting downward in a wet line to the jut of Stiles’ collarbone.  “Lessons, first.  We’ll start tomorrow.”

And then he was gone, the air chilly, Stiles shuddering with his pants around his knees and his neck marked up and throbbing.  Stiles blinked and saw Derek at the window, easing it open and letting a blast of cold night air in.  Stiles tugged up his pants the rest of the way and tripped forward, buckling his belt with a loud thwack of leather and metal.

“Wait, Derek,” he called as he closed the distance between them.  He leaned into the wolf and reached upward to grasp at Derek’s ears, drawing him into a quick and tongue-filled kiss.  He tasted the sharp flavor of his own come on Derek’s lips, and boy was that weird.  He pulled away and rested his forehead against Derek’s, just slightly shorter.  “Yes,” he breathed out quickly, before he lost the nerve.  “The answer to the question was yes.”

Derek’s smile was beautiful and brief, flickering over the features so rapidly that Stiles almost missed it.  Then he turned and was out the window, leaving Stiles to swollen lips, wet underwear, and anticipation thrumming through him like electricity.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are fingers. And a plug.

Derek came in through the window again like a freaking burglar, dropping a large bag on the bed and toeing off his shoes.  Stiles did his best to look like he wasn’t a nervous, sweaty wreck who had on his best underwear.

“You know we have a front door.  And my dad isn’t home.”

Derek shrugged and slid off his leather jacket, hanging it neatly on Stiles’ desk chair before turning it around and sitting in it with an easy spread of his legs.

“Part of your mystique, then?  It’s cool.  I get it.  Derek Hale has an image to keep up.”  Stiles wasn’t sure, but the very corner of Derek’s lips might have curved upward for just a second.

“Open the bag,” Derek said with his usual lack of eloquence.

It loomed scarily on the bed, the brown paper making it seem all the more illicit.  Fingers shaking slightly, Stiles picked it up and dumped the contents out.  In it was a clear bottle of lube with huge letters that said ANAL LUBRICANT on the side, and it was ridiculously large enough to have a pump dispenser on the top.  Because it was too frickin heavy to turn over in your hand.  There also was a box of latex gloves.  But scariest of all was a clear plastic package that displayed three sizes of butt plugs.  It was adorned with a picture of a girl in a bunny suit and a printed tagline that read: ‘Start small.  Finish big.'  And holy crap, the largest plug… Stiles blanched immediately, setting down the package.

“Oh,” he said.  Derek looked unimpressed.

“Look, Stiles.  Here are the rules.  You listen and do what I tell you.  But if it hurts, you tell me and we stop.  If you don’t want to do it anymore, you tell me and we stop.  You got it?”

Stiles nodded dumbly, glancing down at the packaging once more and swallowing hard.

“I need you to tell me you understand,” Derek prodded, his voice softening slightly.

“Yes, I understand, Derek,” Stiles said, and he felt like something momentous had just shifted between them.

“I’m just going to finger you today, and then use the smallest plug.  Is that okay?”

Stiles nodded enthusiastically, although there was some trepidation that flickered through him as Derek handed over the giant bottle of lubricant.

“Isn’t this kind of ridiculously large?” Stiles said, not sure if he was referring to the lubricant, the largest (and most frightening) plug, or Derek’s still unseen dick.  Stiles’ cheeks turned a blooming shade of pink and he drew his legs up on the bed, wrapping his arms around himself like a shield.

“That’s kind of the point,” Derek replied, popping open the clamshell carton and pulling out the contents.  He lined the three plugs up on Stiles’ desk and they just kind of jiggled there while they both watched.  Stiles felt his muscles clench involuntarily and his dick started to chub up in his pants, confused on the cross of his wants and fears at that exact moment.  

“I have to go clean these.  Lie down and try to relax.”

Try to relax, right.  Derek should be a fucking therapist with that kind of advice.  Derek stalked out of the room and Stiles passed the time by twitching his leg and reading the entirety of the lubricant bottle’s label twice before throwing it down on the bed.  He thought better of it and picked it up, setting it in a place of honor on the nightstand.  When Derek returned a minute later Stiles nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Dude.  Can we get you a bell or something?  You’re frickin freaky when you just show up like that.”

Derek’s eyes narrowed in response and then he was crawling up on the bed like some kind of giant cat, pushing Stiles down with only the forward motion of his body until Stiles was flat on his back.

“So, like.  Right now?  With the fingering?  What happened to the idea of your ginormous cock near my ass cause that sounded pretty good, you know.”

“You’re going to have to learn to keep that slutty little mouth shut,” Derek said, but the words didn’t seem to have a sting to them.  In fact, they kind of riled Stiles up in a dirty wrong kind of way.  Yes, he’d watched enough porn to kind of know that humiliation was a kink he could get behind.  But actually hearing it from Derek’s lips was another thing.

Stiles opened his mouth to speak and then closed it, feeling his teeth click together with the force.  Okay, so this was going to be harder than he thought.  He settled for a whine and a buck of his hips, his dick desperately aware that Derek had done nothing yet but give him hard looks and some verbal foreplay.  Derek’s hips arched away from him and Stiles let out a frustrated huff.

He opened his mouth yet again to complain but stopped himself before it was too late.  Derek gave him an approving smile.

“Good boy.”

And Stiles glowed with the praise, his dick swelling even further.  Derek distracted him by hooking his thumbs into Stiles’ waistband and tugging downward, just enough so his hipbones were exposed.  Then he slid down Stiles’ body and mouthed at the jut of bone, and _holy fuck_ , he didn’t think his dick could get any harder but it was.  Derek gnawed on his hip like a chew toy, one hand moving to cup Stiles over his jeans, though it was still not enough friction for Stiles to get hardly anything from it.  He humped his hips upward, a whine pitching in the back of his throat that sounded needy and embarrassing to Stiles’ ears.  But then Derek growled, low and threatening, and Stiles froze in place, mouth falling open on a silent pant as apparently that was all he was allowed to do.

Derek was evidently pleased enough to lower Stiles’ zipper and pull his pants down and off, the cool air lapping at Stiles’ exposed and heated skin.  Derek hovered above him and Stiles thought he would just about die from all of the anticipation, his brain slowly melting into a puddle of goo.  But then Derek was snapping on a latex glove and _oh god_ , this was really happening right this second.  Derek’s eyes held his as he brought his hand down between Stiles’ legs, gently pushing him apart with his thumb and middle finger before pressing the index right against Stiles’ tightly clenched hole.

“Okay, first lesson is how to relax your muscles,” Derek said as he pushed forward just a little bit and Stiles seized up, doing the exact opposite.  Derek stilled his finger and waited until Stiles got in a solid breath before pushing in again.  Sure, Stiles had touched himself before, had tried to see how many fingers he could push up there, and had spent a number of nights trying to figure out how to uncramp his wrist from being held at an awkward angle for so long.  But it was nothing like Derek leaning over him, intense and huge, the knobs of his knuckles just sinking inside despite the tight clenching of Stiles’ body. 

Derek pulled out, releasing Stiles and grabbing for the lube.  He slicked up three fingers all the way down to the webbing of his hand and Stiles watched with large eyes.

“I’m going to put a second finger in,” Derek said, and he did without any more pretense.  Stiles tried his best to relax, he really did, but Derek’s fingers were thick and he was ungodly nervous.  “Here, push down a bit with your muscles.  You know, like you have to go.”

Stiles felt himself turn an embarrassed shade of red but did as Derek told him, experimentally pushing downward and immediately feeling Derek’s fingers slide into him with more ease.  Derek was slow about it, inching in with little rocking motions, the latex slick and smooth.

“I’m going to put a third one in now,” Derek informed him, pulling back out enough and easing his fingers to the side so he could get the third fingertip in.  Stiles had made it to four fingers before, but his weren’t as large as Derek’s.  He felt his dick leaking against his stomach, the pre-come sliding out liberally as Derek worked his way back inward.  Stiles remembered to push again, and then they were there, filling him up, the base of Derek’s hand pressed all the way flush to his body.

“That’s not so bad,” Stiles said, and the way Derek looked at him with amusement didn’t exactly thrill him.  He narrowed his eyes down at the wolf, kind of hating the way Derek looked so attractive, bicep flexing beneath his tight t-shirt as he began rotating the fingers he had pushed up Stiles’ ass.  “Oh,” Stiles said stupidly, his eyelids fluttering.

“You have to be able to take something bigger than me first,” Derek explained, moving out just a bit to thrust inward and make Stiles grunt.  “But not just be able to fit inside you.  You have to ride it.”  He spread his fingers and Stiles keened, throwing his head back against the pillow.  But then Derek pulled backward like he was moving out, crooking his finger at the last second and making Stiles let out a surprised gasp.

Derek grinned like he’d just found hidden treasure, his face dark and devilish looking.  “Like that?”  And he did it again.

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, the aching in his dick growing painful.  “Yeah.  Yeah.  Can you touch me, please?”

Derek rubbed his finger in a tight circle, shifting forward on his knees to balance himself, and sliding his hand underneath Stiles’ cock, letting it rest there on his palm.  “Because you asked so nicely.”  It took only a few tight jerks and Stiles was stiffening up and biting his hand to keep back an embarrassing wail as his body erupted like a volcano.  

“Jesus fucking fuck fuck,” Stiles panted heavily as he arched upward and spurted out onto his shirt, held tethered to the world only by Derek’s tightly gripping fingers.  

When he felt like he could breathe again, he peeked an eye open to see Derek licking come off his hand and oh crap, this whole little experiment was going to be the legitimate death of him.  Goodbye cruel world.  (Except his tombstone would now read ‘ _Cause of death: Too much ridiculously hot sex_ ’ and hey, he could live with that.)

Stiles' breath had barely come down before Derek was easing out his fingers and pulling off the glove with a snap before grabbing the smallest plug off of Stiles’ desk.  He slicked it up with the lubricant, and then he was pushing Stiles’ legs back and putting the blunt end up to his twitching hole.  Stiles felt his dick throb almost painfully, one last aftershock of burning heat sizzling through his blood as Derek pushed it in.

“Relax,” he murmured.  “This one’s small.”

Stiles did his best but Jesus, Derek gave him like zero time to recover.  He felt the smooth material glide into him, rubbing against his prostate and making his skin buzz in a delicious bit of just too much pleasure that it tipped in to pain.  It really wasn’t too big, the largest part just about the size of Derek’s three fingers, but Stiles grumbled anyways as he felt his body clench around it and hug it inside.

“Okay, now  you’re  going to keep it in as long as you can,” Derek said as he tugged Stiles’ boxers up the rest of the way and gave him a little pat.  Stiles buttoned up his jeans in a dazed stupor, sitting up and immediately gasping at the sensation as the plug rubbed against him intimately.

“What… Der… I can’t,” Stiles began to grouch, trying to pull his legs up and groaning in frustration at the new sensations.

Derek moved up on the bed, pushing Stiles against the headboard and letting his lips brush against his.  It was only then that Stiles realized they hadn’t kissed this whole time.

“Yes you can.  You will do so much more for me once I’ve trained you properly.”

Stiles let his head fall back against the wall, Derek taking the opportunity to kiss him greedily.  He could taste a bit of his own come on Derek’s tongue and though he’d done that last time, it still wasn’t any less weird.  Although this time Derek stayed a little longer, though Stiles suspected it was just to watch him suffer with the plug.  He dragged his bottom along the bed, whining before sitting upward and attempting to regain a bit of dignity.

“What about you…” Stiles said, gesturing with his hands towards the obvious tent in Derek’s tight pants, though Derek slapped him away before he could get too close.  “When do I get ahold of big ol’ Captain Hale?  The Hulk?  Big Bad?”

Derek gave him a look of amusement crossed with irritation and it turned his face into the stupidly beautiful expression Stiles had seen so many times.  He bit his lip as Derek smoothed his features into a soft, private smile, and that was something he’d never seen before.

“I want to take you on a date.  Is that alright?”

Stiles nodded eagerly, a bit unwilling to admit to himself just how long he’d yearned to hear those exact words from Derek Hale’s plush mouth.

“But first I want to call you and have you listen to my voice, and get yourself ready.  You’re going to use the smallest plug for a little bit, but when you’re ready for the second one…  I’ll talk you through it, have you pushing it inside your tight little ass, dick leaking against your stomach, cheeks flushed like you are right now.  And then I’m going to pick you up, and we’ll go to dinner, and you will squirm on your seat the whole time.”

 _Oh_.  Stiles’ mind had nothing else to give.

Derek was close now, nosing against the line of Stiles’ jaw, tongue flicking out and drawing patterns across his cheek and up to the curve of his ear.  Stiles eventually realized he was tracing over his moles, brain currently on sensory overload due to Derek’s tongue and Derek’s stubble and also— oh yeah— the plug Derek had put in his ass.  

“And then.  If you’ve been a good boy for me the whole night, then I’ll let you suck me off.  I’ll show you how to take it deep, how to hinge that jaw wide, how to swallow all my come.”

And nope, dead, deaded, dead.

“And if I’m pleased enough with that.”  A pause while Stiles gulped in air because he’d forgotten to breathe.  “ _Then_ I’ll let you come.”

Stiles was still too sensitive to stiffen up in his pants again, but he could feel his body heaving forward with Herculean effort.  “Jesus, Derek.  You can’t just say stuff like that.”

Derek’s grin with filled with teeth, that of a pleased predator.  He leaned forward to kiss Stiles once more, ending with a sucking bite to his lower lip before easing off the bed and collecting his shoes and jacket.  It seemed so odd and domestic, all things considered, and that confused Stiles’ melted brain even more.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Derek promised before sliding right out the window, and Stiles blinked for a moment before throwing his head back and just laughing at the ridiculousness of it.  Then he moved to haul his body up and the plug shifted, and his laughter turned into a sharp groan and a red hot face.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a plug and dinner. And Stiles finally gets to see Derek's mythical cock.

Okay, so Stiles had tried the medium plug instead of the small like Derek had instructed. He didn’t think it would be that big of a deal, and it certainly slid in easy enough given all the lube he’d coated on. It was probably enough to drench a frickin’ Slip and Slide, and he could feel it slicking between his cheeks, making him feel sticky and uncomfortable as he walked. He was sure Derek could smell it on him judging from the way he was smirking, the dirty smile drawing his lips tight and making him look just enough like a jerk that it made Stiles’ bad boy radar ping like crazy.

Dinner was torture. Absolute torture. Worse than those medieval Pear of Anguish torture thingies (probably). There was groping, and spoon licking, and innuendo, and Derek ordered steak that was bleeding, like the fucking carnivore that he is. He bit into it, teeth ripping as neatly as a knife, and Stiles gulped his water down heavily, the plug warm and solid snuggled inside of his body as he clenched around it. And nope, not thinking about those wolfy teeth closed over his neck or maybe that rough tongue flicking out and licking at his cock. Nope, not at all.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Derek asked as Stiles picked at his carrots with red cheeks, feeling like a little boy.

“Are you always such an asshole?” Stiles sniped back, making a face when Derek tipped his toe up to nudge against Stiles’ calf. Derek slid his foot upwards, tapping against Stiles’ crotch and making him leap out of his seat. The quick motion only served to jar the plug and Stiles clenched his teeth to turn his almost moan into a long hiss, brows coming together in a stormy imitation of Derek’s normal Grumpy Cat look.

“You must inspire me,” Derek said nonchalantly, wiggling his toe. Stiles shoved his hands beneath the table, forcing Derek’s foot away from him and pouting with a huge bottom lip.

“Jerk.”

Stiles didn’t even argue when Derek went to grab the check— he figured he owed him enough for mental trauma anyways. Not like any of that mattered, because Stiles still sunk to his knees right in the goddamn parking lot, wondering how he’d gone from teenaged virgin to dirty slut in the span of about a week. And he still hadn’t even seen Derek’s cock. But he’d had dreams about it. Stupid ones where Derek bonked him on the nose with it like a mouse to a snake, and boy was that an apt simile.

“You’re an eager boy,” Derek said with a raised eyebrow, looking awfully smug. The air was cool, Derek’s leather jacket slung around his body in a way that looked artfully nonchalant, the pavement hard under Stiles’ knees. Stiles kind of hated him, hated the way the light wind made Derek look like a fucking model, like his stubble had grown out just the right length to be hobo chic and scorchingly hot at the same time.

“It’s the plug,” Stiles mumbled, fumbling with the front of Derek’s pants and trying to fiddle with the button. “Can I… now? Do I have to beg or something because this is getting ridiculous.”

“I don’t know,” Derek teased, fingers trailing over Stiles’ cheek, tilting his head upward. “I’m not really in the mood to get arrested. _That’s_ a police report I don’t want crossing your father’s desk.”

“Ugh,” Stiles said, slapping against Derek’s thighs and using the forward motion to propel himself upward. “Fine. I’ll finish myself off. I’m used to it after all.”

Derek grabbed Stiles’ wrists, gripping them tightly in his large hands and stopping Stiles’ sidestepping motion. “Not tonight, baby. Get in the car.”

Stiles frowned but obeyed, each step making him hyper-aware of the plug and his hardening dick between his shaking legs. Derek seemed unaffected, switching on the radio and actually whistling on the short drive through town. Stiles realized they were heading to Derek’s loft and he texted his dad quickly, telling him he’d be at Scott’s for the night. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but he didn’t even care at the moment. He needed to get off right the fuck now, and then he needed to punch Derek in the face.

They reached the parking lot and Stiles stumbled after Derek lamely, feeling like he had two left feet, which really wasn’t that out of the ordinary if he was being honest. Then they were passing the huge sliding door and into the cavernous room, Stiles quickly falling in a disorganized heap onto Derek’s couch. Derek stood in front of him, imposing and dark, lit just by the haze of moonlight that filtered in through his large, unwashed windows.

“ _Now_ you’re going to suck me off.” 

Stiles felt all his irritation shoot in a bolt of lightning straight to his dick, sitting up taller and salivating like a dog at the prospect of finally getting to see Derek’s mythical dick. Maybe it had a third eye on it. Maybe it was freakish and wolfy and shaped like one of those weird knotting dildos he’d once found under Isaac’s bed. And had secretly taken a picture of and Googled later, only to shut the browser quickly at the scary number of well-endowed cartoon wolves that appeared.

Stiles waved his hands through the air as he grasped forward, looking up at Derek for confirmation that he was in fact allowed to touch, breath sticking in his throat at the way Derek was staring down at him. He looked fierce and beautiful, and Stiles felt that niggling doubt that always seemed to cloud his mind at the worst times. What on earth was Derek Hale doing with him? Winner of the genetics lottery. Buffest, saddest man on the planet. Scruffy-looking nerf herder with a henley and stupid dimples, and an uncanny knack for saving Stiles’ skinny ass.

Maybe Derek sensed his hesitation because he reached out, grasping Stiles by the chin and tipping his head upward. “You’re perfect,” he said simply before squatting down and kissing Stiles fully on the lips while Stiles flailed in surprise, heart filling up to push uncomfortably against his rib cage. Then Derek pulled away, lips shiny and full, teeth white in the darkness. “Now put that mouth to work.”

_Well._ Okay, then. Derek was still crouched on the floor and Stiles thought for a moment, trying to envision his perfect blow job scenario. He’d certainly jerked off to that particular thought enough times to have a vivid picture in his mind, and he sprung up with enthusiasm, pulling Derek up by the hands and stretching his mouth into a wide grin. 

“Bedroom?” Stiles said, curving it up into a question at the end of the word to not seem too demanding. Derek allowed himself to be pulled away and Stiles tripped happily up the spiral staircase, still holding on to Derek’s hand.

Being in Derek’s bedroom made everything ultra-real, like the world was in high-definition, and his palms were so sweaty his hand slipped in Derek’s grip. 

“You still okay with this?” Derek asked softly, pulling Stiles close to his body and wrapping his arms around his waist. Stiles melted into the touch. He’d never been this close to anyone before— no one had ever wanted him to be. They hovered in that warm space before a kiss, eyes flicking down at each other’s lips, anticipation thick on Stiles’ tongue. Derek was the one to close the gap and the kiss was so sweet, so soft Stiles thought he might morph into a big flock of butterflies. But then Derek was reaching down and tapping at the plug through Stiles’ clothes, and every thought of vengeance and exasperation came crashing back in a violent wave.

“Yeah. God, yes. If I don’t suck your cock right now I’m going to explode from curiosity. And also my dick. That will explode, too.”

Derek’s laugh was more of a low rumble but he was finally, finally lowering his zipper and reaching inside his pants. Stiles lurched forward, unable to wait even a second longer, plunging his hand inside Derek’s black boxer briefs — did Derek even own anything that wasn’t monochromatic? — and getting his fingers on the warm girth of Derek’s cock.

And okay, yeah. Fuck. It was... It was big. Stiles tugged down on the boxer’s with one hand, his other wrapped firmly around Derek’s shaft, lips licking unconsciously as a wealth of soft, pink skin was slowly exposed. He was uncut. Of course he was— that was how Stiles always imagined Derek. He pulled down experimentally, watching in awe as the skin slid smoothly back, revealing the shining head of Derek’s cock. And it was gorgeous. Just. There were no words.

Stiles immediately sunk down, his plans of laying Derek back on the bed and hovering over him or letting Derek fuck down into his mouth immediately gone. Because there was nothing to do but just taste him immediately, and Stiles did, opening his mouth and sticking the point of his tongue out to lick right against the curve of the flared head.

Ever the bastard, Derek pulled his hips away, seeming to delight in the absolute neediness that crossed Stiles’ face. Derek swayed on his feet, rubbing the thick head of his cock against the corner of Stiles’ mouth, teasing forwards and drawing it sideways over the bow of Stiles’ lip. It left a shiny, wet trail and Stiles stuck his tongue out, trying to catch it with a lick.

“Come on, Der,” Stiles whined, and it didn’t take any conscious effort to put a note of neediness in his tone.

Derek arched to push his dick right against the tip of Stiles’ nose, laughing as Stiles crossed his eyes to stare down at the tip of it. But then he seemed to have enough fun and stilled, letting Stiles get his lips around the head before pushing forward gently. 

And holy crap. Okay, so maybe Stiles had practiced on his dildo, had watched YouTube videos on how to deep throat, had waited an eternity to have Derek’s dick in his mouth. But to have the actual thing there, hot on his tongue…It was like Christmas and his birthday all at once. He felt himself swelling in his pants, slightly worried that he’d pop like a cork before Derek even touched him, and Derek would think he was some stupid teenager who couldn’t even control himself. He tried to ignore his own aching body and set to work trying to swallow Derek down as far as he could, wriggling his tongue along the underside of Derek’s dick and curving it up at the end of the stroke. It was sloppy, his spit dribbling out the corners of his mouth, and his jaw began to ache after just a few minutes of Derek’s shallow thrusting.

Stiles pulled off to rub at his cheek, using one hand to wrap around Derek and pump him slowly while he rested his jaw. “Has anyone ever told you your dick is huge?”

Derek laughed again, the muscles of his abdomen flexing with the motion, still half-covered by the hem of his soft t-shirt. He didn’t answer though, just shut his mouth as Stiles slid one hand down to cup his balls and squeeze gently before licking delicately along the tight skin near the tip. 

“Because it’s like… big.”

Derek rolled his eyes, falling backwards slightly to sit on the bed and pulling Stiles forward from where he was connected at Derek’s dick. Stiles shuffled on his knees, bending down to wrap his lips around the head again for a few quick slurps before popping off once more.

“Like really big. Like how the heck am I going to get that thing in my ass? I think that you’re going to need to like sedate me or something because if you just shove that in there—”

“Stiles,” Derek said, his voice crossing over into annoyance. “Shut up. And put your lips on my dick or I’m not going to let you come at all tonight.”

Stiles made a half-laugh half-grimace type of face before moving back over to get down to business, using the wideness of his mouth to suck Derek in as far as he could go. He wanted to talk so badly, wanted to tell Derek how perfect his dick was, how long he’d wanted to do exactly this, but with the cock in his throat he could only give a muffled whine.

Derek seemed to like what he was doing, or at least he didn’t complain about it. His noises grew from tiny grunts to breathy moans, and when he grasped Stiles tightly by the ears and held him fast, Stiles grew still to let Derek do the moving. He fucked into Stiles’ mouth and Stiles relaxed as much as he could, not quite able to take even half of it in but that was enough, really. 

When Derek came he growled like an animal, and Stiles tried to look upward, really wanting to see what Derek’s “O” face looked like. It kind of hurt the back of his eyes to look up at that angle, but he caught a glimpse of Derek’s head thrown back, mouth slack with pleasure, neck taut and tendons straining. It was really fucking hot. It distracted Stiles from the come spurting into the back of his throat and he swallowed easily, thinking that it wasn’t so bad after all. Derek was a little sweet, salt lingering as an aftertaste, and the way he coated the back of his throat like he owned Stiles was a pleasant thought as well.

Stiles waited until Derek’s muscles had stopped shaking before pulling off, resting his hands on Derek’s thighs and sitting back on his heels. The position made him intimately aware of the plug pressing inside of him, his dick so hard in his pants his zipper was hurting him.

“Was that, uh... good?” Stiles asked as he licked at his come-stained lips, and he realized how needy he sounded in that moment. He ached for Derek’s approval though, and he felt his stomach twist up in anticipation as Derek shifted above him and opened his mouth to speak.

“Yeah,” Derek said a little breathlessly, and Stiles fought the urge to pump his fist in the air. It wasn’t exactly a sonnet on Stiles’ blow job skills but hey, Stiles didn’t suck! Or, well… hehe. 

Derek reached down to haul Stiles up in front of him and seal their lips together with a dirty kiss, dipping his tongue inside Stiles’ mouth and chasing at the come that lingered there. And yeah, maybe Derek had a thing for come, for tasting it on Stiles, and maybe that was something Little Stiles could definitely get behind.

Derek pushed Stiles down on the bed and he fell artlessly, heart thrumming wild against his ribs, slightly worried he would come at the first touch of Derek’s fingers now that it was his turn. He pulled his own jeans down and off, instantly self-conscious of his own dick next to Derek’s massive one which was still mostly hard and hanging out of his pants obscenely. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, looking up at Derek through his eyelashes, nerves going crazy.

“I’m going to fuck you now.” Stiles’ eyes widened to dinner saucers. “With a dildo.” 

Well, there was a sentence Stiles didn’t hear often.

“Oh. Okay.” 

They both stripped the remainder of the way, Stiles shy and getting his elbows caught in the sleeves and completely missing the sexy stripper show Derek was probably putting on. He lay back and watched Derek rummage through a drawer in his nightstand, and then threw his arm over his face so he wouldn’t have to see Derek drawing closer with a sizable looking purple dildo and a condom in his hand. The lack of sight made him twitchy, made him aware of the air resting heavy on his skin, the way Derek dipped the bed with the movement of his knees as he shuffled forward. Stiles felt fingers gentling down his thighs, sliding inward and then probing against the base of his plug. They wriggled closer, in between the silicone and skin, and then Derek was twisting it, making Stiles arch up violently.

“Can’t you like, give me some warning, dude?” Stiles yelped out as Derek rotated it in the opposite direction, beginning to slowly work it out of him while Stiles quivered and clenched.

“Relax,” was all Derek said, and he paused, waiting for Stiles to calm down.

Stiles breathed in deeply, inhaling latex and the scent of Derek’s come which really didn’t help him feel any calmer. Derek let him draw in a few more breaths before kissing him on the inside of his knee gently, making Stiles jump. The stubble was rough on his skin, tickling him, and Stiles peeked out from under his arm to see Derek looking cat-like, rubbing his cheek into him. Derek chose that moment to pull gently on the plug again, and this time Stiles went with it, pushing down a little bit so it slid out slowly. It burned a little as it went, his insides aching from being held open for so long.

“Good boy,” Derek praised, sliding one hand up to cover Stiles’ cock and letting him push up into his palm.

“It’s weird. Being empty.” And it felt weird, like Stiles’ insides were trying to squeeze down on something that wasn’t there, like he was so open, so stretched.

Derek smiled and it was beautiful. “Want me to fill you up, baby?”

“God, yes.” Stiles didn’t even have to think about it, the words just shot out of his mouth. Okay, maybe this training thing and working up to it was a good idea after all.

Stiles rubbed his hands over his chest and tightened nipples, splaying his knees further and watching with big eyes as Derek rolled a condom down over the dildo and slicked it up. Now that he was looking properly he saw that it was bigger than the plug, thicker, thick all the way down and not just in one spot like the plug had been. He swallowed hard as Derek lined it up against him.

“Ready?”

Stiles nodded, not really trusting his voice. And then Derek was pushing it in with firm pressure and it just slid, Stiles so open that there was no resistance. He worked slowly though, with an expert precision that made Stiles feel safe, like it was okay, like he could really handle Derek Hale pushing a big ol’ dildo up his ass.

When it was all the way in, Derek paused, looking up at Stiles with his serious eyebrows. “You okay?”

Stiles nodded again.

“I’m going to fuck you now. Okay?”

Again, Stiles nodded, his mind blissfully blank except for the feeling of his ass being stretched and Derek’s fingers right against his inner skin. And then Derek fucked him. He pushed and pulled, the toy large and unyielding while Stiles just squirmed on it, feet planting on the bed and mouth falling open as he drew in noisy breaths. When Derek touched Stiles’ dick, he tensed up instantly, feeling his body tightening on the dildo. Derek had to pause for a moment, waiting for Stiles’ muscles to lose their stamina, each clench growing weaker and weaker as Stiles finally tired and his muscles loosened up.

Derek’s voice spilled a litany of filth, the words sliding over Stiles’ sweaty skin and lodging down deep in his belly. “You’re doing so well, baby. Look at you taking it so well. You’re going to take my dick like a pro, won’t you? Get you so open and wet you’ll just be begging me to put it in you, fuck you hard. Beg me to let you come on my cock. Won’t you, baby?”

Stiles answered in grunts, Derek’s deep pumps gradually escalating into an onslaught, Stiles’ body ramping up into _holy shitballs_ mode as Derek pushed back one of his legs to get in a little deeper. Derek leveraged his body downward, laying his elbow along the back of Stiles’ thigh to keep him splayed and using the freed hand to pump Stiles’ cock in time with his thrusts of the dildo.

“I’m… I’m getting close,” Stiles stammered out, feeling a weird rash of heat wash over his body travelling in two directions, like a wave with an undertow. His balls felt so heavy, tightening up, his muscles quivering from exertion and strain. Derek twisted his hand on the upstroke, beginning to jack him harder, the dildo thrusting slow and deep.

“Yeah,” Derek said. “Yeah, do it baby. Ride my cock. Come for me. Come on my cock.”

And Stiles flexed around it weakly, around the toy, Derek’s hard dick vivid in his brain as he thought about being fucked to within an inch of his life with that cock on this very bed. Something that would be happening very, very soon which was both terrifying and exhilarating. 

His orgasm bubbled up from behind his toes, under his skin, a twist in his belly, his dick hot and pulsing. The come spilled out over Derek’s paw-like hand, thick onto his stomach while Derek fucked him through it mercilessly with the dildo, his rhythm unflagging. Stiles felt the flutters surge through his blood again and again as Derek found that sweet spot inside of him, dragging out the orgasm in a way Stiles hadn’t known was possible. 

When he was finished spurting out the entirety of his innards, Stiles lay there, gasping and aching, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of him. He was silent a minute while Derek stilled, leaving in the toy but moving up to kiss Stiles along the collarbone, biting down gently on the ridge of bone and brushing warm lips over the red marks that welled up.

“I think you killed me,” Stiles finally quipped with a little laugh at the end. 

Derek smiled and cuddled up like a hot blanket against Stiles, and it took a moment for Stiles’ sexed out brain to realize that yes, Derek Hale actually was a post-coital cuddler. He’d have to tell Scott. Once he’d regained the ability to move his limbs again.

“Was it a good death?” Derek murmured, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Yeah,” Stiles said succinctly for once. “You sexed the words out of me.” Derek laughed lightly and they kissed, sweeter this time, licking lazily at each other before falling away to lay side by side, looking up at the tall ceiling.

“Next time is the biggest plug.”

“I’m doing good, yeah?” Stiles said eagerly, curling over to rub against Derek’s side, the dildo sliding out slowly with the motion. He reached behind himself, struggling with the decision to keep it in or pull it out. Derek’s hand snaked around to the base of it, sliding the toy in with a firm push and Stiles absolutely shuddered against the wolf, body worn and exhausted.

“Very good,” Derek purred, and Stiles couldn’t help the satisfied grin that slid across his lax face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek takes Stiles on a date. An actual date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so freaking long. I have no excuses. Thanks again to twi and dizzilytwirling for looking this over and helping me along! <3 <3

Derek knocked on the door, this time.  Stiles didn’t even look up from where he was pretending to do his chemistry homework but was really just watching _Say Yes to the Dress_ , because no one who ever knocked on the door was there for him.  It was always someone from the Sheriff’s office, or sometimes their next door neighbor complaining about noise disturbance when Scott was over and they got really excited about Call of Duty.  All his friends and wolf-shaped acquaintances he sometimes exchanged handjobs with came in through the window—and what did that say about his life, really, sheesh—so when his dad called out, “Hey, Stiles!”, Stiles knit his eyebrows together in confusion and popped his head up.

“What?” Stiles yelled back, knowing it wasn’t really polite, but wiping the Cheetos off his fingertips incase it was someone important.

“Come here, son.”  The Sheriff had his no-nonsense voice out, and Stiles hauled himself off the couch and trotted forward quickly to see what his dad was all bent out of shape about.  He skidded to a halt when he saw Derek in his foyer, looking stupidly beautiful as usual in his leather jacket with the broken button and the too-long sleeves.  And also looking like he was a bit embarrassed for some reason.

“Derek’s just asked me if he can take you on a date.”  

Aha, so _that_ was the reason that Derek looked so pinched.  Stiles tried not to laugh outright; He knew he could handle his dad, but he also knew his dad slept next to a loaded firearm.  And so did Derek.

“Oh, yeah?” Stiles asked nonchalantly, unable to keep a small smirk from the corner of his mouth as Derek turned just a teeny bit whiter.  It was massively enjoyable to have the upper hand on Derek for once, and to watch him be the one to squirm, though Stiles was rather curious as to why he’d shown up unannounced and wanting to talk to his dad.

“Can I talk to you for a minute, Stiles?” the Sheriff asked, steering Stiles away by the arm and into the living room.  They both knew perfectly well that Derek would hear every word they said— one of the perils of having werewolf friends.  Or a werewolf boyfriend.  Was Derek his boyfriend?  No?  Maybe?  Stiles mentally high-fived himself at the prospect before sobering back up at his dad’s pained expression.

“So, Stiles, I know that you’re all grown up now.  You can make your own decisions and I trust you, kiddo.”

Stiles rolled his eyes at the nickname but kind of secretly loved it, shuffling his feet as his dad looked over him with scrutiny.  He picked at the frayed sleeves of his old hoodie, briefly wondering if he should change before going out on this “date” with Derek, his face flushing at the lewd thoughts that flicked through his head from their last experience in a restaurant as his dad stood hovering.

“But you have to be honest with me.”  There was a pregnant pause before the Sheriff continued on with obviously painful effort.  “And also tell Derek to stop sneaking in through your window.”  

Stiles’ eyes flew wide open and they heard a muffled sound from the foyer as Derek apparently tripped over his own feet.  Stiles hoped his mom’s porcelain vase was still standing, but Derek had good reflexes, right?  

“And please, for the love of Pete, make sure you use protection.  If you need me to go buy you some, I will—”

“Oh my _god_ , Dad!  Please.  Please stop now.”  Stiles clapped his hands over his ears and grimaced, not sure who felt more ungodly embarrassed at that moment, but melting into the floor seemed like a fantastic prospect right about then.  “Can we not discuss Derek’s—”  He waved his hands abstractly in the air, “—right now?  Or, you know, ever?  We’re good!”

The Sheriff gave Stiles a long, hard look that made Stiles feel like he was about six again and his dad was trying to get him to admit he’d eaten all the popsicles after being caught with sticky, red fingers.  “Alright,” the Sheriff finally agreed after the lengthy silence, his accompanying sigh one of someone used to long-suffering exasperation.  In fact, he was kind of like Derek in that way, and the thought made Stiles inwardly amused before remembering how mortifying the whole dad/condom/sex talk thing was. “And also, if Derek is going to date my son he needs to come by for dinner soon. How about this Sunday?”

“You’re so embarrassing, Dad,” Stiles moaned, not so sure that was what Derek actually was intending on doing to him, because mostly their “relationship” had involved only their dicks and Derek’s weird obsession with tasting both of their come while Stiles bumbled around and tried not to break anything.  But Stiles smiled faintly anyways and gave his dad a peck on the cheek before turning and bounding back to the foyer to see a very red-looking Derek and a slightly out-of-place but still-intact vase.

“Let’s get out of here,” Stiles said, grabbing Derek by the hand and leading him out the door, deciding wearing the old hoodie was worth it rather than sticking around to endure more uncomfortable questions from the Inquisitorial Squad.

Once they were safely in the car, Derek did a perfect impression of a mannequin, remaining stock still and hand poised on the key in the ignition, Stiles looking over at him with a bit of relieved laughter and some undisguised curiosity.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Stiles said, biting his lip and bringing his hand up to almost rest on Derek’s bicep before thinking better of it and dropping it onto his own lap with an audible thud.  “I can handle my dad, you know.  Plus, what he doesn’t know...”

“I wanted to,” Derek said to the steering wheel.  It was dark out, the porch lights casting long shadows and leaving Derek’s face unreadable.  “It’s not about handling your dad.”

“Oh, okay,” Stiles said, eyebrows drawing together in confusion as Derek finally gathered his wits about him and started the car.  Stiles thought he could see his dad peeking through the curtains and he turned away in embarrassment, fastening his seat belt and fiddling with the radio knobs.  The music came blaring on suddenly, and Stiles raised his eyebrows in surprise because he really hadn’t pegged Derek for a classic rock kind of guy.  Emo or alternative or some kind of tortured acoustic, perhaps.  Huh, you learn something new every day.

“So what was that about then?” Stiles asked, and he tapped along to the rhythmic strumming until Derek stuck his hand out and held Stiles’ fingers still against his own thighs.  “I didn’t wear the plug or anything, either.  Wasn’t expecting you to show up.  I hope you’re not mad.”  The thought of Derek being disapproving made Stiles’ cock twitch with sudden interest, wondering what exactly Derek would do to him in punishment.  It was a nice thought.  One he could roll around in later, perhaps, with his hand on his dick, or maybe with Derek holding him open with his thick fingers and pushing one or three inside.  Hnnng.

“I wanted to take you on a date.  A real date.”  Derek’s eyes were fixed on the road ahead of them, trees whipping by as Derek drove at a pace that was probably unsafe for a normal person.  But apparently okay for reticent, grumpy werewolves with big dicks.  The words made Stiles sit up straighter in his seat, their weight sinking in slowly as Derek swerved to narrowly avoid a squirrel that scampered out of the beam of the Camaro’s headlights with gusto.

“Like a _date_ date?  But where are the flowers?  Do you have reservations?  Why didn’t you tell me?  I would’ve worn a nicer shirt and put on new deodorant.  Didn’t we already have a first date?”  Stiles couldn’t seem to keep his mouth shut, his tried and true defense mechanism kicking in as he was suddenly flushed red from a very different reason than Derek normally inspired him with.

They skidded into the parking lot of a gaudy-looking diner, Derek throwing the car in park and making both of their heads thwack back into the leather headrests with the sudden stop.

“Yeah, a date.  A second date.  I like you, if you haven’t noticed, Stiles,” Derek said to the steering wheel, hands still frozen in place and muscle in his jaw ticking.  “I don’t just try and stick my dick in everyone.”

“Oh,” Stiles repeated for what seemed like the millionth time.  Why couldn’t he ever think of anything better to say to Derek?  Especially at this exact moment in which any words would be better than the weird silence settling over them and the way Stiles’ heartbeat was audible even to his own human ears.  But alright, he’s had Derek Hale’s exceedingly large dick on his tongue, he could spit this out.  Right.  Couldn’t he?  He swallowed hard then opened his mouth, his pulse fluttering wildly as he said, “I like you, too.  If that’s not glaringly obvious.”

Derek turned and his expression was tight, like he was too afraid to be vulnerable, like if Stiles saw behind his mask of sass and arrogance then he would actually have to be himself, or something equally terrifying.

Stiles surged forward with a sudden burst of confidence, eager to show Derek just how _much_ he liked him, before being caught sharply by the seatbelt still fastened diagonally across his chest.  He tried to laugh it off, knowing he sounded ridiculous and it was a little too high-pitched but Derek still smiled softly, making Stiles’ heart leap.  Stiles unbuckled the belt and leaned forward slower this time to close the distance between them, Derek’s lips warm and cautious and much different than any of the other times they’d kissed.  There was no lingering taste of come, for one, no desperation or thrill of getting caught in Stiles’ bedroom while his dad slept only a room away.  It was just Derek, just his rough stubble rasping against Stiles’ chin and his strong fingers coming to hook up in Stiles’ shirt collar and hold him close.  And it was nice.  More than nice, really.

Derek broke the kiss eventually, breathing deeply and looking like a beautiful sex god with glazed over eyes and slick, pink lips.  “You like curly fries, don’t you?” he asked, and Stiles had to blink three times and swallow before he could even process what Derek was saying.

“What?  Yes.  Yes, I do.”

They swung open their doors and Stiles let Derek hold his hand as they walked up to the rickety door of the diner, the neon ‘Eat’ sign bright above the threshold.

The curly fries came with a chocolate malt, and Stiles spent the majority of the evening trying to lick the whipped cream topping off his spoon in the most seductive way possible.  He thought he was doing a pretty job of looking hot until it slipped from his grip and fell on the grimy floor, but Derek only laughed and wiped at the dollop of cream lingering at the corner of Stiles’ lips with his thumb before he pulled it into his own mouth with a wet suck.  Which, _rawr_.  When Derek dropped him off afterward, there was no amount of puppy-dog eyes or pleading or sexual promises from Stiles that could entice him upstairs.

“Soon,” Derek promised with a kiss, both of them shuddering at the implication, because Stiles knew beyond a doubt that he was ready, and Derek was, too.  

***

It was only two days later when Stiles texted Derek ‘ _My dad has the night shift tonight_ ’ with shaky fingers.  He thumped around his room mindlessly, stomach clenched with nerves as he waited for what seemed like an eternity before he heard the bright chirping sound that meant Derek had replied.

‘ _Okay_ ,’ was the one-word message, but it instantly made Stiles grow nervous and sweaty because he knew that this was it, he was going to be naked with Derek Hale and his big dick.  And _hell fucking yeah_ , but also massive panicking, because as many times as Derek had fucked him with dildos and sucked him off ‘til he saw stars, Derek’s dick still hadn’t been in him yet.  And that seemed like a big fucking deal.  So Stiles sat on his bed, once again, and waited until the police cruiser rumbled down the driveway, and it was only a moment later that the window was rattling open on the far side of his bedroom.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek actually have sex, and there is much rejoicing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the lovely people who helped me with this fic by beta-ing, reading, encouraging, helping with ideas, holding my hand, etc. etc.: [thatworldinverted](http://thatworldinverted.tumblr.com%22), [dizzilytwirling](http://dizzilytwirling.tumblr.com), and [eeyore9990](http://eeyore.tumblr.com). Love you!
> 
> I tried to aim for realistic here, so hopefully it worked. Thanks for reading and commenting and following along. I adore you all!!! <3 <3 <3

Stiles had thought he’d met his ‘nope’ quota a long time ago, but when Derek handed him one more bag and he looked at the contents with trepidation, he realized that just wasn’t true.

“Uh, nope,” Stiles said with a popped p, shoving the bag back into Derek’s hands.  

“Uh, yep,” Derek said, repeating Stiles’ inflection and dropping it onto the bed.  “This is how you have sex.  This is us, two people, about to have sex.”  He waved his hands back and forth between them while Stiles scowled.

“What?  Thought you couldn’t wait to get my big dick in your tight little ass,” Derek prodded when Stiles remained mute, kicking along his carpet with his chucks and deep in thought.

Finally, he furrowed his brow and snatched the paper bag off the bed, kicking off his shoes and turning away from Derek so he wouldn’t see the tips of his ears growing red.

“Look, why don’t you, er.  Come back in a bit.  I’ll go to the bathroom and you just go away and not listen to me.  Cause, eww.”

Derek relaxed slightly, shrugging his jacket off and moving back into Stiles’ personal space to turn him around.  He ran his fingers along Stiles’ cheek, brushing against the blunt edge of a buzzed sideburn and tilting Stiles up for a soft kiss.  “No jerking off in the shower,” he said sternly, and Stiles felt his dick chub up in his pants at the order.

“Fine.  Get out of here.” Stiles pushed at Derek’s bulk, not even moving him an inch.  

“There’s instructions in the box.”  Derek released Stiles and walked out of the room, going down the stairs with loud clomping noises that he probably thought eased Stiles’ mind.  What an idiot.

Stiles picked up the box and headed for the bathroom, sitting down on the closed toilet lid and pulling out the small paper of instructions with apprehension.  He turned it over twice, trying to find the portion that was written in English, and making a face as he tried to puzzle out the diagram.  The bulb and the attachment were even scarier than the picture, and Stiles squeezed it a few times, feeling a little gust of wind before his nervous fingers dropped it on his knees.

Alright, he could do this.  He once pulled up a D in Chemistry to a solid B+ with the power of his charisma alone, he could certainly handle… pushing that thing up there and squishing some water around.  It would totally be fine and not weird and scary at all, right.  He sprung up to turn on the tap before he lost his nerve, pep talk over, yes yes go team, you can do it.  Sex!  

It took at least three tries to even get the thing in, Stiles struggling to figure out how to squat and push it in at the same time, fingers slippery with lube and luke-warm water sloshing everywhere.  He laughed like an idiot as the bulb slipped again, muttering out loud, “For fuck’s sake, man.  Just stick it in there.”  And it wasn’t like he totally hadn’t had a lot of other things up his ass, but for some reason he felt like a gigantic moron as he struggled with the equipment and laughed boisterously, forgetting how Derek could probably hear him quite clearly with his freaky werewolf hearing.  He finally got it in, _finally_ , and after muddling around at the bottom of a huge learning curve, much nervous giggling, and scrunching his face until it hurt, he got it working.  And it really wasn’t too scary, once it was all said and done.  Just more awkward and humiliating, especially the part where he had to empty himself out.

As he sat on the toilet for the fifth time Stiles felt ridiculous, but the fluid was finally sloshing out of him crystal clear as the Internet had told him it would.  Because he’d done his research, of course, and dude, sex was disgusting, dicks and holes and bodily fluids, and how anyone did this all the time was really beyond him.  As he pulled away the bulb and reached for the wet washcloth, Stiles’ mind was suddenly supplied with the image of Derek laying him down on the bathroom floor and pulling him apart, filling him up with so much fluid he thought he might burst.  Derek pinning him down, plugging him so he had to hold it all in until Derek gave him permission to get up.

Stiles’ erection had flagged with the enema but now his dick filled up unexpectedly at the images, a hot blush creeping down his chest.  He decided he better not tell Derek about his little fantasy just yet or he’d be pressed down into the tile with strong hands the next time Stiles’ dad left for even a moment.  Stiles showered quickly, using a little soap to lather up and wash everywhere, his cock slippery and hard in his own palm.  Remembering Derek’s words he dropped his hands immediately, rinsing off and nearly tripping over the edge of the tub as he stepped out and reached for his towel.

He fumbled for a moment, naked and dripping on the rug, as he tried to decide whether he should get dressed again or just walk into his bedroom with only the towel and a smile.  He wasn’t sure he had enough body confidence for that, but Derek’s footsteps in the hallway made him change his mind and gather up his clothes to his chest hurriedly.  When he swung the door open he almost hit Derek, laughing nervously before shutting up as he saw the hungry way Derek drew his gaze over his stomach and chest to end right at his lips.

“Doing okay?” Derek asked as he pushed Stiles into the doorframe, Stiles clutching his shirt between them for some reason.  He felt so incredibly aware of how cleaned out and empty he was, his dick throbbing hard against the towel, Derek warm and huge against him.

Stiles nodded, tipping his head up and back so Derek could nose at his neck first before kissing him right beneath the ear in a move that made Stiles’ toes curl.  Derek’s hand searched beneath the towel, rubbing right up against Stiles’ slippery-soft dick, stroking him until he was whimpering into Derek’s lips and straining on his tiptoes to get closer.

Derek managed to pull Stiles away from the door and walk him backwards into the room, all the while still kissing and gripping Stiles’ cock.  Stiles felt his legs hit the back of the bed and he fell backwards with a surprised hiccup, scooting back on his good sheets, the towel falling away as he moved.  Derek looked down at him with dark, hooded eyes, his lips slightly parted as he stripped off his shirt and undid his buckle.

“Wait, let me,” Stiles said, eagerly getting to his knees to help Derek with the button on his pants.  Derek was wearing his usual black boxer-briefs, and Stiles bent to mouth at the hard outline of his cock resting against his hip.  Derek grunted and laced his hands through Stiles’ hair, massaging for a moment before gripping tight and pulling him away when Stiles got a little too enthusiastic with his tongue and teeth on the material.

Derek shifted his hips away, holding Stiles in the air and tilting his head backwards until Stiles looked him in the eyes.

“Do you remember the rules, Stiles?” Derek asked seriously, licking his lips while Stiles nodded fervently.  “Good.  Tell me them.”

“I tell you if something hurts.  And if I want to stop.”  Stiles was beginning to feel nervous again as he really thought about what they were about to do, and he swallowed heavily.  

Derek’s jeans and boxers fell quickly and he stepped out of them, Stiles’ mouth going slightly dry as Derek’s cock just hung there like a big, scary weight.  Because, oh yeah.  It was, you know, _big_.  How could Stiles forget.  Derek seemed to sense Stiles’ hesitation and he pulled Stiles tight to his body, kissing him tenderly and holding him fast with one hand at the back of his neck.   Derek moved slow, his jaw working beneath Stiles’ fingers, soft stubble tickling and scratching.  Stiles was pretty sure he was going to have beard burn, but really, that was a badge he’d be proud to wear tomorrow at school.  And fuck it all, Stiles decided suddenly.  He didn’t just give himself a fricking enema to stop now—he was going to have sex, dammit.  He was going to have sex with Derek Hale’s big dick, and it was going to be awesome.  So say we all.

“We’re gonna take it slow.  I want to get you all nice and loosened up for me, first,” Derek said, voice a low purr that made something warm and submissive rumble inside Stiles’ chest.  “Roll over, baby.  Want to see your pretty little hole.”

Stiles was somewhat used to Derek’s dirty mouth by now, and he felt the surge of excitement rush straight to his gut with only a minimal amount of accompanying self-consciousness.  He rolled over easily, spreading his legs, and then grunted as Derek slapped at his thighs lightly.

“Ass up.  Spread open for me.”  

This was possibly Stiles’ favorite position because one, Derek couldn’t see the scrunched up sex face Stiles made when Derek hit a particularly sweet spot, and two, there was something so degrading and yet dizzyingly acquiescent about it at the same time.  Derek prodded at him like he was a piece of tender meat, fingers digging into the soft skin of his thighs and thumbs pulling him apart.  Stiles flushed as his hole tightened up under Derek’s gaze, not quite used to the scrutiny of his privatest parts yet.

Then Derek’s tongue was wet on him, flicking right over the little pucker and Stiles yelped and flinched at the unexpected touch.  Derek held him firmly by the hips, pushing down on him a little so his chest sunk fully onto the bed and his belly pressed into his folded-up knees.  Cock throbbing between his legs, Stiles grit his teeth and tried not to wail as Derek dragged his tongue back and forth, up and down, pointed and then flat.  He licked down Stiles’ taint and then along the soft sack of his balls, sucking one inward while Stiles let out small mewling noises and tried not to move too much.  He knew Derek liked it when he was still, good, obedient.  He wanted so hard to be good for Derek.

After it seemed like Stiles’ whole ass had received a tongue bath, Derek’s mouth moved to suck over Stiles’ hole in a sloppy, wet kiss, tongue delving deep.  Stiles did his best to relax, but the sensation of the slippery muscle inching and curling inward was ridiculously dirty-hot.  Derek was slow, meticulous, his tongue licking inside like he was trying to get out the last of the peanut butter in the jar and Stiles slowly melted back into the wriggling softness.  Eventually Derek switched to just his fingers, slippery and cool but no latex gloves this time, and Stiles was so wet and relaxed from the tonguing that Derek was able to get two in right away.  He took his time stretching, pulling Stiles in all directions, holding him down with one hand on the small of his back and whispering endearments against his skin.

“You look so good like this.  Do you want more, Stiles?”  

Stiles nodded into the sheets, mute for once in his life as Derek pried him open gently.

“Just like that, yeah.  Take one more?  You’re doing so well.”   

Stiles knew it was only three fingers, but they felt massive in his slightly skittish state, his nerves magnifying again as he thought about Derek’s big dick about to sink inside of him.  Derek rotated them expertly and crooked them forward, searching for the spongy-soft bundle of nerves and giving it a firm stroke.  Stiles twitched violently on the fingers, his need to be filled up by Derek gradually overcoming his nervousness until he was biting his tongue to keep from flat out begging.

“So fucking gorgeous.  Gonna spread you out on your little boy bed and fuck you so good.  You’re gonna come so hard while riding my dick, baby, aren’t you.  You ready?”

“Yeah, pleaseplease _please_ , want it so bad.” The words burst from Stiles’ lips with a deep groan, finally breaking his silence as Derek eased his fingers out and wiped them off on the sheets.  He could practically feel Derek smiling roguishly at his back, pulling him up by the hips and moving up closer so the bed dipped with his weight.  There was some crinkling noise which Stiles guessed was a condom being opened, and then the head of Derek’s dick brushed against him, slippery and huge, making Stiles tense up against his own will.  Derek waited for a moment until Stiles’ muscles relaxed and then he was sliding in, just the tip feeling gigantic, Stiles trying so hard to relax and let him in but it wasn’t easy going.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Derek praised as he pulled away slightly and then inched back in.  Stiles breathed in deep, absolutely shuddering when Derek’s hand reached beneath to pull at his dick, straining into his touch and then back into Derek’s hips.  He remembered to push down with his muscles and immediately Derek’s dick slipped in a little further.  “That’s it, baby.  Push with your hips.  Stay nice and open for me.”

Stiles pressed his forehead down more, curving his body downward and closing his eyes as each little nudge inward felt like a mile.  Derek pushed and pushed, constantly stroking Stiles’ sides and cock, the pads of his fingers warm and comforting as he slowly inched inside.  They hit a bit of a wall when Stiles grunted with a little pain, Derek freezing and stroking as Stiles struggled back up on his hands.

“You alright?” Derek asked with concern, and Stiles craned his head around to see Derek looking beautifully anxious and also… very… _something_.  Stiles couldn’t pin it down, but the moment he breathed out his muscles squeezed down again, and every other thought flew from his mind.

“Yeah, no, I’m good.  Just need a second.”  Stiles had done bigger, really—though not by much—, but it hadn’t been a real cock, it hadn’t been flesh, it hadn’t really been Derek.  He was eager to get to the good stuff, but he’d learned in the past few weeks that slow and steady really were the way to go when it came to taking big things up your ass.  He should get that printed on a t-shirt.  “Okay.  Keep going.”

Derek nodded silently and then changed the angle of his hips, and he was sliding in a little further this time.  “You don’t know how long…”  He trailed off as he finally scooted the last little bit in and bottomed out, their hips sealed together, balls nudging against Stiles’ body.

“Yeah?” Stiles replied, not even sure what Derek was saying.

“How long I’ve been wanting this.  To have you squirming beneath me.  To have my cock buried in your perfect little ass.”

Stiles laughed slightly, feeling ridiculous and stuffed full and like he was hanging on the edge of some giant precipice looking down with a swooping thrill of fear and exhilaration.  “How long?”

But Derek didn’t answer, he just pulled back a teeny bit to thrust forward, and Stiles’ mouth fell open and lax, deciding not to push Derek for an answer because being fucked by his big dick seemed just a little bit more important at the moment.  

“Still okay?”

Stiles bit his lip and nodded, and when Derek began a very slow and deep rhythm, Stiles began to curl in on himself as the sensations faded quickly from weird to alright to amazingly fantastic.  And holy crap, this was it.  He, Stiles Stilinski, was having sex.  It was almost surreal, each sensation huge and daunting, trembling up his thighs and aching in his wrists as he held himself upright under the slow onslaught.  He thought it’d be funnier or something, jokes cracking as Derek reamed into him, or maybe some awkward fumbling and getting smacked in the face accidentally as Derek tried to arrange his limbs how he wanted him.  Instead it was a deep pull in his belly, his ass aching pleasantly, and Derek’s words hot and dirty on his skin.

“Gonna fuck you every night,” Derek was muttering.  “Keep you open for me all the time.  When I’m not home you’ll fuck yourself on your fingers or my toys, plug yourself up.  Just for me.  You’ll do that for me, Stiles.  Won’t you?”

Holy crap, Derek was good at dirty talk.  Stiles was going to need to take a speed course on how to string words together in bed.  Sex with Werewolves 101: How To Talk Dirty to Your Alpha.  Stiles stared at the movement of the sheets as he slid along them, spluttering slightly when he realized Derek was looking for a response.  “Yeah.  Yeah.  Whatever you want.”

“Anything I want, baby?”  Derek was picking up the pace of his thrusts now, pushing just a little bit at the end to make Stiles grunt.

“Yeah, anything,” Stiles agreed fervently, flexing his spine experimentally and gasping when it made Derek hit him in precisely the right way.

“When can I fuck you, baby?”

“Whenever you want.  Anytime.”  It was getting easier to get out the words, the steady pounding into Stiles’ ass loosening his inhibitions and tongue as Derek pulled at his cock.

“The middle of the day, I tell you to get on your knees, suck my cock into your slutty little mouth, you’ll do it?  Right in front of everybody?”

Stiles nodded into the sheets.  “Yes, yes.  Please god, yes.”

“And if I ask you to bend over and pull yourself apart and show me your pretty wet hole, yeah?”

More nodding and some grunting, Stiles’ skin feeling prickly hot, muscles beginning to tremble.

“Gonna fuck you over every surface I can.  Gonna make you come over every piece of furniture in my loft and make you lick it up with your tongue.  Wanna spread you out on my sheets and knot you til you’re crying.  And then do it again in the morning when you’re all sleepy and fucked out and dying for it again.”

“Yeah, please.  Please, Derek.  Please just fucking _fuck_.”  Stiles felt himself tipped over into an orgasm as soon as Derek did something magical with his abs that made his dick leap forward, coupled with a rough hand squeezing along his length.  Biting into his forearm, Stiles groaned out as he felt sticky-hot everywhere, the rush under his skin blossoming outward like a giant hazy wave that lapped at his dick and traveled clear to his toes.  

He could feel himself clenching down, Derek grunting behind him and thrusting more shallowly now, suddenly worried about if he should’ve let Derek come first, and what exactly was the etiquette for orgasms here, and fuck, was this a thing now, worrying about who would come first?  Oh _no_ , please, after you. No no no, after _you_.  Derek kept on trucking like a freight train though, pound pound pound while Stiles grew hyper-sensitive and overly vocal, squeaks hissing into moans that turned into one very undignified wail that could probably be heard clear into the preserve.

“Jesus fucking _Christ_ , Stiles.  You drive me crazy.”

Stiles’ sex-addled brain chose to take that as a compliment, especially when it was coupled by Derek’s muscles freezing and a strangled inhalation.  Derek pulled himself out only to plunge back inward, fucking Stiles steadily as he came, the feeling massive and overwhelming as Stiles grunted and flexed around him.  The condom felt sterile, though, and Stiles wondered what it would be like to have Derek’s come warm inside of him, filling him up like a claim.

“Well back atcha,” Stiles mumbled as Derek fell heavily on top of him and just lay there like a furry bear-skin rug until Stiles finally pushed him off and to the side.  Derek rolled Stiles with him, careful to pull out slowly, holding onto the condom as he did and peeling it off before tossing it in the bedside trashcan.  Stiles scooted closer, making a face when he rubbed his hip into the wet spot of his own come but he stayed there anyways just so he could be close to Derek’s bulk as they let their breathing slow with a few moments of silence.

“So knotting’s a thing, really?” Stiles said with a half-cocked grin, pawing at Derek’s chest and latching onto a patch of hair while Derek fought valiantly to avoid looking like he was happy.  “Can we try that next time?”

Derek tried but couldn’t stop a laugh from bubbling up, the sound light and surprised, and Stiles thought he could definitely get used to the post-coital cuddling and the way orgasm had made Derek’s face lose some of its sharpness around the corners.  “Let’s do it the normal way first a couple of times.”

Stiles turned so he was curled into Derek, happy to be the little spoon even though the wolf was hot as a furnace and kind of grossly leaking onto Stiles’ thighs.  But in this position Derek couldn’t see the happy grin plastered on his face that he tried to temper with zero success.

“Stop smiling, Stiles,” Derek said gruffly, making a noisy snuffling grunt that reminded Stiles of a giant puppy, but there was no way in hell he was going to voice that particular thought.  Not if he ever wanted to get laid again.

“I’m not smiling.”

“Yes you are.”

“How do you even…”

“Magic werewolf powers.”

“Is that a joke?  Did Derek Hale just tell me a joke?”

Derek didn’t respond, probably deciding it was better to just be silent rather than keep spuring Stiles onward.  He fell asleep, limbs heavy as rocks and snoring so loud Stiles was glad his dad wasn’t home or he would’ve come barging in guns blazing for sure.  

The smile was still stuck on Stiles’ face the next morning when Derek woke him with an accidental kick to the legs, followed by some gross morning-breath kissing that quickly became morning blowjobs, and Stiles was grateful because, frankly, his ass couldn’t take anymore pounding for at least a little while.

They kissed for a long time until they heard the garage door rumbling, and Stiles gave Derek a quick shove that had him rolling out of bed with a loud thud and a surprised laugh as he searched around blindly for his underwear.  Stiles distracted his dad with pancakes while Derek snuck out the window, and the smile must have been plastered on his face with superglue because his dad kept asking him if he was alright and if something had happened like did he win the lottery or did the school burn down.  Stiles just shoveled more bacon in his mouth so he wouldn’t have to speak and made vague gestures with his hands; he wasn’t that good of a liar really, and his dad always seemed to know all of his tells.  He was pretty damn sure he’d done a good job of hiding the root cause of his chipper mood until that evening when he came back from going out with Derek for ice cream to find a box of XXL condoms taped to his door, no note attached.

Stiles turned beet red, grabbing the box and throwing it in his nightstand so he wouldn’t have to look at them, feeling like he might actually burst into flames from sheer embarrassment.  He grabbed his phone to text Derek, deciding the normal ‘wait to text until they’re not in your driveway at least’ rule no longer applied to the two of them.

_‘Dad left me condoms.  XXL.  You should be pleased he thinks so highly of you.’_

Derek’s reply came a minute later, succinct as always.   _‘Fuck.’_

_‘Next time your bed.  Knotting?’_

_‘No.’_

And then a minute later: _‘Maybe.’_

Stiles could practically see Derek’s eyebrows drawing together crossly before that small, secret smile came out— the one that only Stiles got to see.  The thought made him absolutely grin with glee.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on tumblr as [badwolfbadwolf](http://badwolfbadwolf.tumblr.com)!


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